Elementals
by Molted Seraphim
Summary: (Complete) Five Elements; five one-shots; five in-depth views of Miroku, Sango, their realtionship, and their personalities. (MS, obviously)
1. Tochi

Elementals  
  
By: Vampire-elf  
  
Tochi  
  
Tranquility: a beloved word pursued by all, attained by none. It was impossible for the world to work that way. Granted, humans could sometimes enclose their fingers around a small piece of this calmness, but it always slipped away, like sand in an hourglass. They clutched at it, ripping their fingernails from their beds of skin to try and obtain a better hold on this word –a larger piece of the pie- but the end result was always the same.  
  
Life thrived off of chaos or, if not chaos, then the general activity of those who possessed it. Tranquility was a disease, and fate continually seemed to find a way to "cure" it, whether it be by war, famine, death, or disease.  
  
It was inevitable; it HAD to be accepted ... even if you didn't like it. The process was always at work, even if the ones affected by it were unaware.  
  
As the demon slayer Sango trudged through the infinite grove of trees, she began to feel the workings of the system take its toll on her somnolent, seemingly-useless form. Burning demonic lifeblood still lightly coated her skin from a battle earlier in the day; an infinite number of salty sweat droplets worked their way into the various gashes along her arms, stomach, and –most painful of all- along the small of her back. Her tender joints rubbed against each other, like the squelching of a door hinge rusted in the elements, crooning out a frustrated tune. A pale brown layer of grime –an unpleasant mixture of dirt, dust, and the ever-persistent sweat- muted most of the protesting notes, though a few still rose up in harmony with the grumbles of her empty stomach.  
  
To summarize –in an immense understatement- she was tired.  
  
Yet they couldn't stop their quest, not for the elements, the protesting of the earth or their bodies, or the mental and physical agony brought about by every little quarrel they had every single day. It was an endless circle, their quest, roaming the earth in pursuit of the remnants of the Shikon no Tama –jewel of four souls- and the demon that carried most of its shards, along with the few remaining shards of their lives. Naraku, the puppet master; he was the cause of their tribulations.  
  
Yet, at the moment, Sango didn't care.  
  
After roaming through the dense forest for hours upon end, any ideas of hatred, vengeance, or any other emotion associated with the malefactor had been –along with coherent thoughts- forgone in favor of a continual mental stupor. It was easier to keep going that way, forcing herself into a daze whilst pinning all of her attention to some vague object, of which there were plenty.  
  
There went a tree; there was another one. Her mind roamed the patterned contours of its bark, the way its leaves curled up in silent obeisance to the sky, emerald tips pointing to the canopy over their heads, straddled by the unseen sky. But then she'd passed it, and had to go on to the next one ... and the next ... and the... But there wasn't a next one.  
  
Before her stretched a small respite from the onslaught of foliage, a hidden knoll, a secret clearing or grotto, that ran on almost as far as the eye could see. Verdant hills rose and crested like waves, only to roll abruptly back to level ground. Flowers –much more attractive than the plain earthy hues of trees- were clustered sporadically about the area, bending and swaying with the cool breeze that ran forward to kiss her warm skin.  
  
She turned to her companions to observe their reactions to this paradise, only to see that they'd, being in deeper trances than herself, yet to notice her absence and had gone on, oblivious. Only Miroku had noticed Sango's pause in the procession, and turned his head to glance at the grotto that stretched out before him. (Anything that caught the attention of the slayer was well worth his attention.) Much was his surprise to be greeted with nothing but ferns and flowers: an inspiring sight to be sure, but not a fearsome demon, which is what he'd expected. Much more was his astonishment when Sango, still in a daze, ambled slowly forward to meet the sight before her, laying down Hiraikotsu, the sturdy bone boomerang that served as her main weapon, and bending to crouch in the swaying shafts of jade-colored grass.  
  
The noise was enough to attract the attention of Inuyasha, the relentless "leader" of their troupe. His harsh eyes, sparkling with the color of golden ore, searched out the disturbance, corners turning downward with those of his lips as he scowled at the girl behind him.  
  
"And what the hell do you think you're doin'?" he asked gruffly, stepping forward in an offensive posture.  
  
Sango smiled absently, slipping her faded blue pack from its position atop her shoulders. Her dulled eyes took on a foreign sparkle, and she tucked a loose strand of sable hair behind her ear before turning to face the half- demon. She didn't speak, but simply traded her careless continence for one of annoyance, even mild anger. Then, her meaning accomplished, she turned to face forward again, and flopped lazily on the ground.  
  
The jaws of every being present slackened at her indolent behavior; Sango was a stubborn, persistent one, perhaps even more so than their very own hanyou, Inuyasha. She was not known to give up, and had even held onto life when she was no more than an inch away from death, unwilling to accept defeat without first dishing out vengeance. So, why now, when only faced with mild amounts of discomfort and pain, did she suddenly give up?  
  
Kagome, Shippo, Kirara, Inuyasha, and Miroku, the members of the traveling group, all stood still and pondered this enigma, still watching as Sango arranged herself into a somewhat comfortable position and closed her eyes. Only Miroku, knowing Sango in a way much more close, intimate than the others, was able to hazard an accurate guess at her behavior.  
  
Sango was, in many ways, not the same woman they'd encountered so long ago. She was no longer living on borrowed time, was no longer hollow, empty, devoid of any and all emotion or love. In ways she was more fragile; in ways she was more hardened. One cannot constantly be strong, as much as one tries, and Sango was finally giving into the ache that had been bothering her for a long time. Everyone needed rest –mentally and physically- and she was finally getting hers. For one evening, she was entitled to forget herself.  
  
And so was Miroku.  
  
He understood the importance of living for the moment, and needed the same respite from the world that Sango did, for he too had wounds to heal. Ignoring the curses coming from the half-breed before him, Miroku made his way to the center of his earth, and lay down his Shakujou beside Sango's Hiraikotsu. Slowly, he crouched, as Sango had, in the grass, and turned to examine the girl beside him.  
  
Her inky-black tendrils of hair blended into the dark shoots of grass; the vivid hues of her pink and green wardrobe were so close to the shades of the flowers she'd lain in that he was unable to determine where she ended and the foliage began. And then there was the creamy complexion of her skin, which matched the light hues of the soil. She seemed to have melded into the earth, as though it were already trying to re-claim her after being robbed of her body when she'd –oh so long ago- crawled from her grave.  
  
'But she's mine,' Miroku though possessively, 'and you can't have her.'  
  
And then he found a comfortable patch of earth beside the slumbering maiden, and eased himself down so he was close beside her, his body practically pressed against hers. His arm reached slowly around her slim waist, and Sango –already asleep- warmed to his touch and moved to rest her head against his chest.  
  
A/N: I've wanted to do this one-shot for a long time, and only now (with the wonderful schedule I've devised for myself) am able to do it. It's one in a series of five one-shots, showcasing a theme of one of the five elements: earth, air, fire, water, and spirit. (They vary depending on what set of beliefs you look them up in, so don't say 'No, you're wrong, it's WIND not air,' or , 'Where the heck did you get spirit?!' Just go with it. This one was earth- themed. The title I chose for it was the word Tochi, which showed up in my Japanese pocket dictionary under the word "earth." It means land, ground, or soil, but, in a different spelling as far as the Japanese characters go, it can mean "this place, or here." Which is like, they're doing what they want to do now, in this place. (The clearing.) So there's a double meaning. And, if you're a former-reader of my other stories, fear not! I am working on schedule; the results are just a little hard to see right now. (Editing/re-writing is a lengthy process, and the other chapters have been pretty bad when I tried to write them. So, I came up with an outline for some of my stories as far as plot goes. (That means I can tell you how many chaps. Of Lethal Game are left...)) Anyway, I gotta. Since it's Friday still, I'm gonna try to put out the next one-shot in this quartet tonight. Ja ne! 


	2. Kuki

Elementals  
  
By: Vampire-elf  
  
Kuki  
  
Running for an eternity... trying to flee, to hide, to fight the impending doom. But he couldn't, it knew him: who he was, where he was, his weaknesses and strengths... The curse was a part of him, and he could no more hide from it than he could from himself. It had been biding its time for years, but now its hunger, the lust for its owner's flesh and blood, was unbearable. The kazaana's appetite was large, and it took much for the abomination to be sated. It took a life.  
  
'Not now...'  
  
It started suddenly; the prayer beads that encircled Miroku's wrist loosened considerably, as though they were being removed by a pair of phantom hands. They chattered like teeth against each other, clinking irritably until Miroku put a silencing hand around his wrist. But even as he adjusted his grip upon his arm, the beads saw their opportunity and shattered within his grasp, loosing the horror that lay embedded within his palm.  
  
He was met head-on by a vicious tempest, a whirlwind that, now released, would continue implacably until it had consumed its host. It started with the flesh of his right limb, ripping it forcibly from the muscles and bones beneath; a squelching, churning noise that always accompanied the tearing of skin punctuated the houishi's agonized scream. A fountain of precious lifeblood spurted forth.  
  
"Ahh- no! I can't leave yet!" Miroku shouted to the heavens, suddenly oblivious to the hole consuming his arm. "I CAN'T LEAVE!!!!!!!!"  
  
The winds only quickened their pace, adapting to the struggling of their victim. The vortex thickened, pressing itself against his torso and head, forcing the air inside his body to join the frenzied whirlpool.  
  
"Sango..." Her image filled his mind's eye, chasing away the physical agony only to replace it with the anguished thought that he would never again see her face. He would leave her for oblivion, and she would...  
  
He could see it as if it were real: Sango weeping, moaning in sorrow, lost in the throes of the powerful emotion. His name frequented her swollen lips, along with Naraku's, though the baboon's name was spat like a curse; his was sighed wistfully. Suddenly, the damned monkey was before her, smirking maliciously from beneath his snowy cloak. Before he could react, the slayer drew her katana and lunged for the malfactor, only to be beaten down as he drew his own weapon. Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks, and suddenly Sango was knocked backwards in a stealthy blow to the stomach. The next blow would be Naraku's last, as he smiled in sadistic pleasure as the smooth metal of his weapon entered the woman's stomach. Instantly, she fell to hard, cold ground, lips turning upward in a wry smile as a warm, crimson blossom bloomed across the front of her yukata.  
  
"No, Sango...!" Yet even as Miroku began to struggle once more, he knew his efforts to be futile. He would inevitably die –as would she- and even in the hereafter, they would be separated.  
  
Blackness consumed his heart, body, and mind, as the vortex won and sucked him into nothingness.....  
  
"NO!!!!"  
  
Miroku's eyes snapped open, drinking in the surrounding area. He was comforted by the sight of his friends and comrades scattered throughout the hut, fast asleep.  
  
It had all been a dream... But it had felt so real...  
  
A tight, stretched feeling seemed to overwhelm his chest, still churning up and down, heaving with the depth of his breath. It resembled fear, but was much more consuming, so that Miroku could do nothing but sit in place and tremble, staring at the rosary beads that at that very moment were slowing his impending death.  
  
By the Buddha, it had felt real....  
  
"Houishi-sama....?" Sango yawned, stirring in her futon across the room. "Did you say something?" She stretched out her body in a catlike manner, arching her back before elongating it to full length, practically purring as the kinks in her muscles disappeared. "I thought I...," she paused to yawn once more, "heard you say something."  
  
Miroku said nothing, looking down guiltily. The image of blood soaking the front of her yukata still plagued his mind, and he paled at the "memory."  
  
Sango noticed, and squinted at the man through the still night air. The ashen tint to his skin worried her, as did his downcast eyes and quivering form. This morbid countenance only graced his visage when the kazaana was involved, usually when he was bedridden from having acted foolhardy and sucked more into the hell hole than he should have. This seeming panic attack did not sit well with her. "Houishi-sama......?"  
  
"Sango, I..." Miroku froze. What could he say- that he'd had a nightmare? The explanation seemed somewhat insufficient, considering the number of bad dreams he'd heard Sango endure night after night... Unlike he, who had yet to feel death's cold hands pull you to the other side, Sango had underwent the separation of herself and life. Many sleepless nights served to remind her of this; this, and the bloodied corpses of her friends and family, the endless row of the graves of her slain kin. He had no right to complain. "I... it's nothing."  
  
Both unfinished sentences hung loose in the air, blowing about their heads with the slight breeze that fluttered through the doorway. The bamboo screen flapped noisily against the door's frame, its hypnotic rhythm drawing both sets of eyes. It beckoned them outside, to the spring night and the full moon. Miroku flinched as the draft touched his skin.  
  
"I'm going outside."  
  
Miroku stood slowly, walking dazedly towards the moonlit opening. As his feet touched the first soft blades of grass outside, he froze again. The clearing in front of him –the empty space in between the village and the forest- was familiar, as though he'd seen it before, seen the way the moon cast dim shadows against the knee-high bushes. Déjà vu... He'd seen this exact play of light and shadows previous to this moment- right before his rosary had shattered in his hands...  
  
Instantly, she fell to hard, cold ground, lips turning upward in a wry smile as a warm, crimson blossom bloomed across the front of her yukata.  
  
Miroku's eyes snapped open –though he couldn't remember closing them to begin with- as a hand laid itself atop his shoulder. He spun quickly, as though facing attack, only to find himself face to face with Sango. She gasped but held firm to his yukata, moving with him as he backed away from the hut, slipping into the shadows cast by the moon.  
  
"What's inside your head?" she murmured soothingly. "What is it that plagues your mind so?"  
  
Miroku slowed his pace slightly as her words met his ears. She knew. How could he be so stupid to think she hadn't realized it, having known the feel of nightmares herself? She knew- but not the entirety of the horror.  
  
"I... You died," he said forlornly, "because I did."  
  
Sango nodded, seemingly understanding the confused thoughts running through his head. "The kazaana?" she asked in a whisper, absently running a finger along the smooth surface of the beads containing it. "Or was it in battle?"  
  
Miroku closed his fingers around Sango's small hand; it seemed so delicate when enclosed by his. How could something so beautiful cause so much destruction? How could she rip apart the foundations of his very being and somehow implant herself within him? How could she demolish any ounce of self-control, of cool reserve he possessed and hid behind, and force him to act in a manner unbecoming? How could she, just by holding his hand, make him feel so foolish, while at the same time making him believe they were the only two beings in the world, a pair of lovers under a star-spangled sky?  
  
He inhaled deeply; Sango would be his undoing, though he knew he couldn't bear to live without her. She was what kept him alive, the air he breathed.  
  
"Forgive me for acting in such a foolish manner," he breathed, "I'm no better than a young child afraid a monster is lurking around the corner just because his dreams told him so."  
  
Sango lifted his hand up to her field of view, peeling back the sleeve of his yukata so his entire appendage was visible. "Now you're being foolish," she chided, "the monster is always with you."  
  
Miroku snorted, "So that excuses my behavior?"  
  
Sango shrugged in response, casting her gaze up to the heavens. Tears threatened to spill forth from her darkened eyes, and already they were glistening like the stars they gazed upon. After collecting herself enough, she turned once more to face Miroku, beautiful and tragic in the moonlight. "Every time I see his death, it's like the first time. I have to remember I'm in another place, another reality. For my sake, I have to forget him."  
  
Miroku pulled Sango closer, still only clinging to her petite hand, not making further advances. "But I can't forget what torments me- that would mean losing you." He gently squeezed her hand, running a finger along the back of it, from the rigid hills and valleys of her knuckles to the graceful curve at the beginnings of her wrist. "I just don't want to remember..."  
  
A/N: Cliché, weird, interesting, etc. So many words that can be used to describe this part of the one-shot series. (BTW, I decided to combine them all into this collection called Elementals, since I thought it would be easier.) But I did include fluff, so I hope you liked it, Aamalie. As a note, Kuki means air or atmosphere, which could represent the kazaana –though I could've just used Kaze for that. I had the element-chapter connection be with that nice, sappy metaphor where Sango is the air Miroku breathes. XD. Look for the next installment soon!! 


	3. Mizu

Elementals  
  
By: Vampire-Elf  
  
Mizu  
  
A thick curtain of haze hung in the air, the palpable sheen of humidity that always came around on those long summer days. Through the glimmering screen, Miroku could make out the tantalizing gleam of the pond he was crouched beside, the way it winked at him provocatively, begging him to slip into its depths. The cool water, seductress of the summer, called to him, its allure causing the sweat beads accumulating across his forehead to become all the more noticeable. A few lone droplets ran down his cheeks into the corners of his dry lips, causing him to instinctively lick them, collecting all the moisture he could.  
  
Oh, yes... it was so tempting... But he had to resist temptation...  
  
The monk's eyes fell upon the wooden bucket that lay beside him, a reminder of why he had emerged from the depths of Kaede's hut in the first place. He had a job to do...  
  
Sighing forlornly, Miroku picked up the container and plunged it just under the cool liquid's surface, jerking his hand back almost instantly, lest he forget himself and stay there and further emerge himself in the physical manifestation of bliss. His needs had to be forgotten for the moment, for he had a much more important task to do than cool himself down...  
  
Slowly, he stood, and turned to walk back to the wooden hut. The water on his hand had evaporated and returned back to the atmosphere by the time he'd taken five steps down the dirt path.  
  
.....................  
  
"Remind me again why it's you doing this..." Sango growled wearily, frowning at the situation she found herself in.  
  
She was sitting down, leaned against the wall so her chest was against the wood and her back faced Miroku, who knelt behind her. The green wrap she usually wore over her yukata was tied around her waist to act as a skirt of sorts; a few grimy bandages that had long needed changing were tied sloppily around her torso, barely covering her back and, more importantly, her breasts. (Even though she was leaning against the wall, her breasts hidden from the lecherous monk, she still felt uncomfortable with the situation, unsure as to how he would act: would he be a gentleman or amorous, as was his usual behavior?) Beside them was a pile of fresh, pristine bandages given to them by Kagome, a token from the future, the time she came from.  
  
Miroku simply shrugged in response –though the demon slayer couldn't see him—and picked up a few white strips from the pile. "Perhaps," he stated slowly, "someone else could have tended to your wounds, had not you put off reminding us until Kagome and Inuyasha were otherwise occupied in her time, and Shippou was off with Kaede, making her rounds in the village..."  
  
Sango rolled her eyes in annoyance at his condescending, "I told you so" tone of voice.  
  
"Though," Miroku continued, oblivious to her heat-heightened agitation, "I don't see why you mind being so... ah... exposed in my presence, seeing as how I would eventually see you in this state of undress anyway... since we are betrothed..."  
  
Sango's cheeks reddened at the insinuation, and it took all of her self- control not to whirl around and slap the man for his perverse comment. "Eventually," she retorted through gritted teeth, "is not now, Houishi- sama, so I would appreciate it if you would keep your... plans for the future to yourself."  
  
Miroku nodded, 'fair enough', and reached forward to begin unwinding her disgustingly filthy bandages. With as much care as possible, he untied the knot next to her waist and slowly worked his way up; ever mindful of how close he was in proximity to the bare flesh of the battle goddess, wounded and in her purest form. He felt his usual lustful instincts begin to tug at his mind, and had to concentrate profusely to not brush his hands against her bosom and label it an "accident".  
  
He took hold of the end of the strand, brought his hand around from the left to rest in front of her, where he then paused for the briefest of moments, transferring the bandage to his right hand when his left would reach no further safely; he brought his right hand around her back to the left, where the process started over again. For such a small amount of bandaging, it sure seemed to take an eternity to unwind them, though his methodical behavior wasn't without merit... After all, she was... so... very... close... Miroku gulped nervously and searched for any means to distract himself.  
  
"So..." he mumbled uncertainly.  
  
"Mmmh?" Sango mumbled as a reply, snapped out of a daze of sorts that had fallen over her. "Did you say something?"  
  
Miroku sighed, "Not really. I was just... I was wondering if the wounds still pained you greatly or if the hurt had subsided some over this past week..."  
  
Sango shrugged, careful to move just enough to convey her message, but not enough to accidentally touch the houishi. "I... I've felt so much pain over the years... I forget it's there after a while..." she admitted. "It's... I guess you could say it's not something meaningful in my life... or it's so meaningful that..." Her voice –already a whisper- trailed off into nothingness, and she shrugged again for good measure. "I suppose if you want a straightforward answer, it would be 'No, I'm fine.'"  
  
Miroku smiled at her paradoxical way of speaking, slightly happier for the briefest of moments, until the last of the filthy bandages had been removed, and her comment about pain took on a whole new meaning for him...  
  
Miroku, being the hormonally-driven man that he was, had often gone to spy upon the female members of the group whilst they were bathing, taking pleasure in viewing the curves and contours of their figures, the way trails of water would fall down their bodies... Yet, never, in his many times of observing Sango at the hot springs, had he noticed the spider's web of scars that crisscrossed her back: dozens of long, white, pearly markings, mementos of her days as a demon slayer, her death and rebirth, and... and her latest set, oozing blood and pus and only half-healed, a memento of their latest crusade... his foolhardy behavior and delusions of grandeur...  
  
The day had been unusually cold for July; a great contrast to this day's stifling weather. Sheets of rain had fallen from the sky, blown sideways by the torrential winds. Voluminous black clouds filled the heavens, blocking any and all light emitted by the summer sun. Even sitting indoors, you could not escape this miserable downpour: the rain, blown horizontally, found its way through windows and the bamboo screens that served as doors. Still, escaping into warm corners, hidden from the world by blankets, was a much better alternative to traveling from town to town, which was what Inuyasha, the hanyou, Kagome Higurashi, the priestess from the future, Sango, a demon slayer, Miroku, an amorous monk, Shippou, a young orphaned fox demon, and Kirara, Sango's fire cat demon, found themselves doing that dreary day. Kaede, the priestess from what could be considered "their village", had needed some supplies, and, being too old to make the distance in the time required, the mismatched group had volunteered to go in her stead.  
  
The town they meant to visit was a good day's travel away providing one took the most direct route, the trail marked by worn roads, thick patches of impassable foliage, and an unbelievably large river –enormous in both depth and width—that could, if one was not careful, block their path in an instant and delay any journey. With a challenge that simultaneously excited and disheartened the companions, they set out, making their way along the nearly-invisible pathway.  
  
For a while, they made good time, avoiding the forest areas with their sharp, snagging plants, keeping an eye on the river but not leaving the trail to –foolhardily—attempt at crossing it; the weather, though dreadful, didn't hamper them as much as it could have... Of course, upon realizing this, the group knew things would inevitably take a turn for the worse- which they did. A couple more miles of travel, and not even Inuyasha, who had the keenest of senses, could see his hand an inch away from his face. The wind howled a piteous song, making conversation impossible. Yet somehow, attached to a breeze, a call for help reached the travelers' ears...  
  
The village, which turned out to be closer than they had thought, rested not even a mile away from the river's banks. Flooding, while appreciated in towns with rice fields and other growing vegetation, was not something to smile about in an all-industrial sort of town. Being a village of an industrial economy, the rain had panicked the townspeople so greatly they were all but rioting. To save the villagers and stop the frenzied behavior, all able-bodied men and boys had been sent to try and dam up an area just downriver from the village, hoping to divert the flood to elsewhere. However, due to a lack of planning and preparation, the most any man had been able to do was get himself washed away in the rapids. First one young boy, too careless for his own good, had, while playing around, slipped off the bank and into the water, where he was almost instantly dragged under. A middle-aged man –cousin to the head of the village—came next, and then in an accident eight more, leaving the rest frightened and lost in the throes of despair. All got down on their knees, bowing to the powerful element and begging whatever god controlled it for mercy.  
  
That was what Inuyasha and company had heard upon the howling breeze, compelling them to abandon the road and help those asking for it, as was the proper thing to do. (Or so Kagome, Miroku, Sango, and Shippou said, coaxing Inuyasha into agreeing with them.)  
  
They made their way fairly quickly to the despondent group upon the banks of the raging river, who were kneeling in water that was practically up to their necks. Inuyasha, being a half-demon and therefore faster than the other occupants of the group –except the two demons, though they were too tired or young to keep up—was the first to arrive on the scene, startling the village men, who, upon seeing this fearsome beast with his glimmering golden eyes, unusual silvery locks, and otherworldly dog ears, bowed even lower in the quickly-rising river. Startled at their reaction, he had shouted at them to rise, which they hurriedly did, still under the belief they were in the presence of a god. (Even though his brash, crude demeanor suggested that he was anything but.)  
  
Soon after, the other members of the "divine" group arrived, just in time to hear another anguished cry as the log half of the men had been standing on spilt in two, sending most of the men on it careening into the river and downstream, save those who were standing on its edge and fell backwards onto the bank.  
  
Inuyasha was the first to dive into the river after them, his "hero instinct" already kicking in. Miroku, being the only other grown male, felt it his duty to follow after, and did so, with Kagome and Sango at his heels. They all reached the water at approximately the same time, plunging into its depths with no hesitation whatsoever- except Sango, who was riding her fire cat and chose to fly over the waters instead. There were about twenty men being pulled downstream in total, six of which Inuyasha had grabbed a hold of and pulled out in under one minute. Miroku, believing he could manage a good few, grabbed the robes of three men and tried in vain to swim his way back to shore, realizing one second too late that he was exceedingly weighed-down with the bodies of the men he was trying to save, and would most definitely sink if he didn't let go of at least one. But, as with most situations in life, there was something to lose when guaranteeing his personal safety. The men in his arms, too weak to even move anymore, would instantly be swept away were he to so much as even loosen his grip. And so, putting their lives before his own, Miroku determinedly continued to kick towards the shore, ignoring the facts that his head was underwater, his lungs were already strained from his exerting himself so much whilst fighting the current, and were now all but on fire from lack of air, and one of the men was beginning to slip from his grasp... The pain of a fragment of the log hitting his head didn't even register, so intent was he on simply making it to the shore; never once did it occur to him that Inuyasha or Sango could have aided him, had he accidentally –or even purposefully—let go. No, he had a one-track mind that was taking a break from its usual perverse thoughts to set itself on saving these three helpless villagers, no matter the cost.  
  
It is said that hubris is the downfall of all heroes.  
  
He kicked, kicked, and kicked again, digging his toes into the loose soil at the bottom of the river to hold his ground and not be dragged further downstream to his doom... Miroku continued to inch across the river, still battling the current, until his robe snagged on the thorns of a bush that grew on the riverbank. Thrusting the men forward until they were lying, practically unconscious, on the shore, Miroku found himself content to float by the bush –since he was safe, now, after all—, stuck in the calming cool of the rapids, the swift, frigid flow somehow soothing... mesmerizing... so that he didn't notice the unbelievably large, jagged hunk of wood coming towards him until the last moment, when, out of nowhere a blur of orange flame came hurtling towards him, singing his arm as the fire cat demon, Kirara, flew past, her mistress leaping off her back and towards Miroku, pushing him out of the way of the obscenely large piece of driftwood.  
  
"Sango!" he cried, suddenly awake, desperately trying to pull the demon slayer onto the bank with him, out of the way of the lethal piece of wood. Yet his reaction came seconds too late, and Sango was only half out of the way when the chunk came hurtling past, its jagged edges digging into her back, shredding her flesh like it was nothing and sending rivulets of blood into the rapids, staining the water red. "Sango!!!"  
  
And so, because of him, Sango had been wounded, almost mortally so, and he had been plagued with guilt ever since. Every time she cried out in her sleep because she'd accidentally rolled over onto her back, Miroku would awaken, hating himself more and more for causing her such pain. Of course, he'd forgotten –or perhaps he didn't realize—that Sango had felt many such wounds over the passing of time, though even if he had known or remembered, that piece of information would have done little to console him.  
  
"There are so many..." he noted quietly to himself, forgetting for a moment that Sango was there, listening to him, feeling his fingers stop their work for a moment and gently trace the road map of her life, twisted and tangled on her back.  
  
Sango nodded lightly, turning her head slightly to catch the movement of his hands out of the corner of her eyes. He gently worked his way up her back, starting at her most recent set of scars, causing her to gasp at his touch, not so much in pain as surprise at the tickling tingling sensation of his fingers tracing the red-tinted skin on the outskirts of her wounds, or just in surprise at his actions in general. Then he moved up slightly, observing a small scar just above the hollow of the small of her back, just below her prominent shoulder blades.  
  
"Kohaku..." she whispered, the raw emotion in her voice so clear Miroku didn't even have to ask as to what she referred to. He had no doubts that this was the wound that, despite its small size, had hurt her the most of all.  
  
"Did it heal quickly?" he asked, trying to force her mind from the memories she was re-experiencing, he with her as he watched them, reflected in her glimmering eyes.  
  
He abruptly ended his probing investigation of her back, and quickly cleaned her wound with the cool water and re-wrapped her torso, ending the bandaging session. Then he turned modestly turned away so she could dress herself, and was prepared to leave when she answered.  
  
"No, no it didn't... it still hasn't healed, and its hurt drowns out all other pains, even that of the gashes that tree gave me," she said, somewhat wryly, but still weighed down with sorrow.  
  
And then she did something Miroku would have least expected: she launched herself at him, nearly tackling him as she pulled him into a bone-breaking hug, wrapping her arms around him and melting into his chest, ignoring the pain she obviously felt as he lightly wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands at the small of her back –possibly relishing the pain, and how it drowned out every other sensation—and ignoring the fact she was barely clothed, still only clad in her green wrap and the fresh bandages Miroku had wrapped around her, already beginning to soak in blood. And Miroku just let her take out her feelings on him, squeezing him until he thought his ribs would crack and shatter, soaking the front of his clothing with salty pools of tears she was trying so hard to fight, though the battle had already become futile. And then, when she was finished, she stepped away and grabbed her yukata –which signaled Miroku to turn around—and slipped into it, adjusting her appearance until she looked no different then she normally did. And then, Sango turned and walked away, outside of the hut, as if nothing had happened, disappearing into the shimmer in the air like a ghost in the night, leaving Miroku to stand and stare at the last of the water in the bucket, evaporating before his eyes.

A/N: Okay, sorry for the long delay (glances nervously at Aamalie) but I've been busy. Pining after your love is a full-time job, as is reading a summer booklist the school decided to send to you a few weeks before school started, instead at the beginning of summer. Anyway, look for the next chapter soon, since I'm going to try my hardest to get it out in time to be a birthday present for a certain person I beta for... Why not read her fics and review, if you haven't already? I recommend Love me Not, which was recently completed, and Sweet Tooth, which is... in the process of being completed... (Both by Aamalie) Anyway, I'm hurrying up to post this (glances even MORE nervously at Aamalie) so I'm just going to say thanks for the reviews, and please continue your wonderfulness and review this chapter. Yeah, that lovely little button. Click it. Now. Ja ne!


	4. Hi

Elementals

By: Vampire-Elf

A/N: (I don't like saying stuff before chapters, but I'm making an exception because this chapter will seem... weird, compared to my others. I'm writing a little differently, not really going into much detail, making things much simpler... And once the part involving Inuyasha and Kagome is done, their conversation will be like 'this', to serve as background. The only things I'll really describe will involve Miroku and Sango.... Just thought I'd mention that...)

Hi

Everything can rest on a single moment, one infinitely small instant in time. So many things can happen in a second; a word can be spoken that could change the world. It's like the flickering of a flame, one second rising up above it all in its golden glory, the next falling back down into the ashes. An eternity in a single moment isn't so hard to find, a new revelation in the course of a blink of an eye. It was dark, as it had been for a long time before, and suddenly it was light, brightness seeped into the area. A dull orange glow blossomed in the black of the night, creating a small sphere of refuge in the otherwise inhospitable darkness. A few embers smoldered on a pile of brittle logs and dried leaves, casting a dim radiance that illuminated the faces of five weary travelers, leaning into the meager fire for a scrap of warmth as though it had a magnetic pull on their trembling bodies. Red luminescence reflected off of their glossy tresses like halos, adding to the mystic feel that had ruled the evening thus far.

"So... isn't this better than sitting at your desk '_studying_' for '_tests_'?!"

"Inuyasha, do you always have to give Kagome-sama a hard time for deciding to take the path of knowledge instead of that of blunt wit and brute strength?" Miroku's eyes darted away from the hanyou, who had chosen to abstain from physical violence and had settled on making a rather rude gesture instead, and flitted around the group, settling on Sango. A small smirk graced her usually-hardened face, a healthy sanguine color rested on her full cheeks.

"Miroku-sama, Inuyasha. Can we please go one night without fighting over something? I agree with you... it's nice... though I do have a test next week, but..."

"Kagome-chan, don't worry so much. You'll do fine—you always do." Miroku nodded in affirmation of Sango's words, causing her to flash a rare smile his way. He smiled back, though she'd already turned her eyes back to her friend, the houishi all but forgotten.

"Yeah... I guess you're right... so how do you think Kaede-baachan is doing? She was looking rather pale when we left..."

"Keh. The hag's fine. It's the middle of winter, everyone's pale. Illness has nothing to do with it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, idiot! That old woman ain't gonna die anytime soon, so a little cold don't mean nothin'?!"

"Idiot?! You're the idiot, idiot! It's a cold in the middle of winter!"

"It's nothing some of that syrup stuff from your time won't heal!"

Miroku turned his gaze from the quickly-heating argument, back towards Sango, who had also started the process of turning away, tuning it all out. These arguments were routine, as predictable and traceable as the phases of the moon.

'_Oh, yeah....'_

' "_Oh, yeah......"! Keh. Idiot!' _

Sango's mahogany eyes rolled in annoyance, knowing all-too-well what could happen next, were this argument to develop much more.

'_Don't mock me! Do you know how immature that is?'_

'"_Don't mock me! Do you know how immature that is_?_"'_

Miroku observed Sango, who was in turn observing the squabbling couple seated beside her. She didn't notice the attentions of the man sitting across from her, who was scrutinizing her as fixedly as she was Inuyasha and Kagome. He noticed every twitch of her facial muscles, contorting her expression into a mirthful mask of joy and annoyance, a strange combination to be sure. The crimson glow of the fire tinted the edges of her irises, causing her to seem a magenta-eyed thing of the night. The creamy color of her skin was seemingly dyed as well, simply building upon her exotic beauty. Miroku found himself feeling fortunate that he was sitting across from this exquisite creature and not beside her, knowing all too well that his hands wouldn't be anywhere near controllable were he any closer to her.

'_Inuyasha, do you just WANT me to say it? Because I will. Say it. Si—_

'_You realize that when you say that I'll be thrown face-first into the fire...?'_

Yet Miroku couldn't make himself let it go; he felt compelled to do something, anything, if it would convey how he felt, how beautiful she looked in the glow of the firelight.

'_You don't think you can trick me that easily, you- huh?? Oh... Sorry, Inuyasha...'_

'_Sorry?! What the hell are you apologizing for?! You think you can just threaten to mutilate me and then sorry will make it all go away?!'_

But suddenly he realized the object of his affections had stopped watching the show a long time ago, and had turned to watching him instead. Though, as he tried to catch her eye, she quickly blushed and turned her head, so Miroku could do nothing but sigh in exasperation and turn once more to face those beside him.

'_Well, that means a lot coming from the one who STARTED this whole thing. YOU should be apologizing to ME.'_

'_Keh. You wish, stupid girl.'_

But Miroku quickly turned back, bored already with the unfolding soap opera. He noticed Sango had gotten over her embarrassment and was turning back towards him, and so he nodded his head in the couple's direction before lightly rolling his eyes. The faint giggle that escaped her lips made him smile contentedly; a twin grin was present on Sango's face, barely visible, drowned in the deepening shadows that masked her brilliance.

'_Stupid?! That word was what got us into this stupid thing in the first place!!! I AM NOT STUPID!!!'_

'_The word was idiot.'_

Slightly more daring now that the mask of night was on her face, meaning her expression was unreadable, Miroku changed his smile so he was now smiling at her, just her. The antics of the other two had nothing to do with it. As Sango leaned in closer to the fire, he could see the rose hue of a blush paint her already-warm cheeks.

'_Oww! What'd you hit me for?!'_

'_Because I can't say "it" to you! You've been rude all evening, not even considering how I feel. Do you realize my self esteem could be driven down to NOTHING with all of your criticism...? Do you even care...?'_

Slowly, Sango worked up the daring to smile back, the corners of her lips bending upward in an unmistakable gesture. But Miroku had barely seen it when the mutable embers of the fire decided it was time for a change again, catching some more leaves and roaring up high in a flaming orange blaze, nearly singing the robes of all who were present. For a moment they were hidden from each other, though the fire quickly subsided.

'_Now... Kagome... don't cry... I-_

'_Well what do you want me to do, Inuyasha?! Laugh? Oh, ha ha, this is so VERY funny!'_

Miroku, in a daze, couldn't think to pull his gaze away from Sango, though to his credit her eyes wouldn't leave the depths of his either. They were just sitting there.... eyes locked... grinning dazedly... all alone in their own world...

'_Kagome... I'm sorry, I...'_

'_Huh? Inuyasha...'_

Slowly, though from what motivation Miroku couldn't be sure, he lifted his left hand to his lips, then lowering the appendage slightly and flattening out his palm, he sent a breath across his hand, away from him and across the fire, his eyes never leaving Sango. She looked startled for a moment, puzzled, but quickly recovered and held out her trembling hand, keeping it in front of her for the shortest of instants before pulling it absently to her cheek, rubbing her fingers against the permanent blush.

'_I'm sorry, too, Inuyasha... But- oh! We've just been ignoring Miroku-sama and Sango-chan...'_

'_Oi, bozo!'_

Slowly, then, she brought her hand down to her lips, before breathing across it as the monk had done, watching as he held out his hand and caught the warmth...

"Sango-chan!"

"Nani, Kagome-chan...?"

"Are you alright...? You seemed... Oh, but anyway, I meant to apologize for both of us, Inuyasha and I. We didn't mean to ignore you two like this..."

"Oh, it's nothing, Kagome-chan, really."

"Yes, but... Still, we're sorry."

"Keh, speak for yourself. I don't think we should have to apologize; it was only five minutes."

A/N: Alright, this chapter, like I said, is extremely weird. Just humor the poor girl, experimenting with different writing styles. shrugs But whatever, that's me. If you guys like it, you do, and if you don't like it, you don't... I'm just the humble authoress. Oh, and by the way, does anyone know what they were doing? It makes all the difference between whether this chapter had any fluff or not. Just... think... If necessary do what they did. Put your hand to your lips. Now lower it so it's about level with your chin. Now breathe or blow or whatever. Figure it out yet? XD Whatever, most of you probably already knew.... But anyway, thanks for all of the nice reviews. I feel so loved. (Which is why this chapter will have review responses.) Anyway, the last installment of this set of one-shots will come soon, if I finish my reading for school. (Which starts in one day short of a week, noooooo) You guys have been great, and I really appreciate all the love. Sorry this one took so long- it was easy to write, but my laptop was taken away for a week, which meant no story, since it was only on the laptop. AND my boyfriend's back from Europe, so I'm compelled to shower him with love and affection. AND I had boot camp for my evil high school from hell, since they felt compelled to whip us into shape. So yeah. You take the good and the bad.

Reviewer Responses:

SuicidalSlayer: Uh... thanks, I guess. You didn't have to read too deeply to get that "Sango's cheeks reddened at the insinuation" means she blushed... well, at least I don't think you do...

Joanna2: (glomps) !!! Thank you!! Your review was just so nice... I hope this chapter hasn't made you lose faith in me... XD I'm better than Scribe Figaro... O.o I dunno about that... But I'm happy to take the compliment! You like pocky? B/c you've earned either pocky or candy, whichever you want. But no cookies... -.- (hoards them) They're minnnne... XD Can you tell I'm hyper. I seriously apologize. I'd just re-write your response, but sadly enough I'm so hyper I can't think of a better way to say it. XD

Drake220: Thank ya! I could picture her doing that, too. It is a very Sango-ish thing to do... I'm not sure about this chapter being in-character all that much, but I was talking to the person I beta for and I got the impression that she would kill me if I didn't do 5 chapters... and since I'm trying to go a step up on fluffiness or romantic-ness or whatever you would call it, I had to postpone the inevitable kiss since I don't feel like writing a lime and changing the rating. So sorry. (gasps) But did I just say all that out loud?! Looks like you get a sneak peek, then. Again, please excuse my hyperness.

Aamalie: (pokes) You didn't review, but I'm just putting this here because I know you read it. I loved the ending to ST. Two down one to go... But this last fic will be the hardest... XD Welcome back and a happy belated birthday to you. (Though I already wished you a happy b-day) ((tosses pocky)) My present to you. You still don't have the men in white coats chasing after me, do you? XD


	5. Seishin

Elementals 

By: Vampire-elf

Seishin

"What's it like…?"

It had been such an abrupt question, one that took Sango by surprise, blurted out during a pensive moment when silence was lying thick in the air. Away from it all, she and Miroku sat alone, hidden deep within the forest, Sango sitting down, leaning on Miroku, his armswrapped gingerly around her waist, hands gently laid upon her stomach; it was an affectionate gesture Sango found she minded little, since the monk had yet to revert back to his usual behaviorisms. That particular bad habit of his seemed to have little chance of happening without her consent nowadays, since, in deference to her wishes, Miroku had agreed to treat Sango with more respect than he had previously been doing, although they both agreed the occasional grope was necessary to keep up the façade they presented to the rest of the group, a false image of an immoral monk and an a continually-annoyed, continually-repulsed demon slayer, both of whom felt something for the other but refused to so much as acknowledge it. They both knew that Kagome's acuity would make her more susceptible to noticing that their relationship had progressed substantially over the passing of time, and took measures accordingly to ensure that they wouldn't be bothered with pointless questions and other unnecessary annoyances. Still, it was hard abstaining from showing any signs of affection until Inuyasha and Kagome were away in the future and Shippou was otherwise occupied, asleep or with Kaede. Sango, despite her diffidence, relished the feeling of being so close to Miroku that it was like they were two souls housed in one shell, their bodies pressed as close as they could be without combining them, their spirits free to wander the skies together. To not be able to feel that whenever she wanted was torture, to only be able to lock eyes with him across a campfire at night, only be privy to a small portion of his soul instead of the whole thing, agony. In a way, it was as though she was addicted to a narcotic, plunging deeper and deeper into addiction until she couldn't live without it. Their connection was far deeper than any physical relation, any lust-formed bond Miroku could have concocted in his head before he had met Sango. It was vast, endless, so deep, oh so deep… When either of the pair thought about it, it was like they felt a tugging on the bottom of their heart, suddenly aware of a new warmth permeating the vast expanses of their souls, a depth and a hollow space where a small portion of their spirit was missing, given away to the one they shared themselves with. The feeling was indescribable, so refreshing and wonderful, so addicting, so demanding that after a while, simply being in the presence of the other wasn't enough; it was constantly demanding more. Soon, they both realized, the others would find out,but then, at least, they would have to deny themselves completion no longer.

Tentatively, Sango lifted one of Miroku's hands from beside her, where it had moved to rest on the damp soil beneath them, and laced her fingers through his, absently stroking the cloth above his skin, stopping only when her index finger lightly brushed against the beads that bound Miroku's curse, a vortex of winds from hell that would rage on from generation to generation in his family, unable to be appeased for all of eternity. It was something she had been doing more and more frequently, absentmindedly tracing the path of the beads as they snaked across Miroku's arm, even wishing, sometimes, that she could take this burden from his back and place it on hers, thus saving him from his horrible fate. The kazaana had held Miroku's thoughts for a while now as well, and when Sango began to toy with his rosary he flinched away, yanking his hand suddenly from Sango's grasp as though he had been burned. Sango looked at him quizzically for a moment, and he forced an apologetic smile before hesitantly placing his cursed hand in hers once more. The silence now was overwhelming, thick and palpable, morose, even; and then Miroku asked the question.

"What's it like…?"

Sango blinked for a moment, unnerved by the trepidation in his voice. "What is what like?" she finally replied, easing herself up and turning around to face Miroku.

He looked away, finally turning back and locking eyes with Sango in a gaze so strong and inundated with emotions that she could find no way to look away, as though her eyes were trapped. "Death," he whispered, and then broke the glance that had held Sango so powerfully in its grips.

Her breath caught in her throat and she found herself swaying slightly in the melancholy wind that blew past, whistling and then wailing in her unhearing ears. Miroku's hand darted out and placed itself behind her back as a means of support, and with his eyes he entreated a response once more. Sango grew cold to even remember that day, and yet she knew Miroku needed this, simply by the way he made no attempts to dissemble his morbid curiosity. She had heard him stir at night, seen his whole body tremble as he became caught in the throes of pain, feeling the kazaana growing. Closer and closer together these instances were becoming, and Sango despaired to think about the fact that all too soon Miroku might be gone, swallowed in a tempest pouring forth from his own hand. Despite the pain, the fact still remained that he had little time left on this earth, and both of them knew it.

Sango sighed forlornly, and closed her eyes, bringing back the memories in one painful flood. "It was… dark," she began, "and I felt a sudden freedom, a lightness of the spirit as I felt my essence float away from my body. At first I watched as my body grew smaller and smaller, and then suddenly blackness surrounded it all, and I was… I just was; my spirit existed and continued to follow that invisible trail, flowing further and further away from life. Everything I'd ever known was forgotten, even my own name, or how to think… everything was just raw emotions, mostly a deep, overwhelming feeling of peace as I was freed from all my corporal aches, all of my troubles and worries. I floated through eternity, where there was no time and space, just other souls like me, trying to continue down the path to… peace… our final destination where it would all end… not oblivion, just… peace…"

Miroku seemed unaffected by her answer, calmed, possibly, if nothing else, though still his eyes revealed his curiosity as to one aspect of her story. "Why did you stop?" he asked, and Sango, shaken from the memory, had to sit for a moment before she could collect herself enough to answer.

"Something called me back," she answered, "or rather, something stopped me from leaving. I suppose it might have been my strong desire for vengeance that still weighed down my soul; that could have been what pulled me back to my body. But deep down inside, something _else_, something a part of me but not, told me that I had tasks left unfinished on this earth, things that I had to accomplish before I could move on. My purpose in life had yet to be completed."

Her eyes, half-open, half-closed, met Miroku's, and he was taken aback at how hollow they seemed, like empty pools that served only to show himself his own reflection. As suddenly as that unnerving, glassy quality appeared in her usually-luminescent orbs, it disappeared, and then Sango was once more looking at him. Miroku smiled faintly at her, leaning forward and lightly brushing his lips against hers, pulling them away before making them meet again in a soft, sweet kiss that, though chaste, still held meaning. After a moment, they both pulled away but continued to embrace, Miroku burying his head in the voluminous blanket of Sango's ebony mane, breathing in deeply as though he could somehow absorb her into himself that way.

"I'm glad you stayed," he murmured into her hair, inhaling once again, taking in the faint scent of jasmine that laced her hair.

"I am, too," she replied, further wrapping her arms around his chest, pulling herself closer to him.

"I know," he whispered, "but you don't know how serious I am when I say it. I wouldn't have been able to make it as far as I had without you, Sango. I mean that. You have been by my side through so much, and so many times I have clung onto life just to be able to see your face again."

A sharp intake of breath hissed from Sango's throat, and her eyes prickled as tears threatened to start accumulating in their corners; realization of something had suddenly hit Sango full-on in the face, and it pained her even more as she brought herself to share her epiphany. "Miroku… Don't do what I did. If the curse consumes you, leave and don't worry about me or anyone else that you have left behind."

"I would have no body to return to," he mused quietly, more to himself than Sango, "though I suppose my spirit could remain here, a phantom doomed to haunt the earth forever. But if it was your fate to return, simply because your fate had yet to be fulfilled, why do you think I could control what happens to me?"

Sango pulled herself from Miroku's grip, her rippling eyes meeting his, trying to say something, though Miroku couldn't quite figure out what it was. "I," she began, swallowing the saliva in her mouth once before continuing, "think my reason for staying was more than just Kohaku, but my destiny as well, my karma. I've told you this, though I still don't think you understand," here she paused once more, collecting her thoughts before continuing. "My fate, Miroku, and yours are intertwined. I have kept you here so far; you told me that…" She sighed again, irresolute. "My fate…"

Understanding dawned upon Miroku, causing him to feel awed, yet at the same time foolish for not having realized it first, himself. "Before we even met…"

"What has happened was supposed to happened, and now that we have done what was needed, you can find peace if… if it happens. Our destinies were the same, and now they are both complete, or nearly complete, anyway," she murmured, glancing downward into nothing, her eyes finally focusing on her stomach and their intertwined hands,"and we are just loose spirits floating around until we fall off the edge of the earth."

Miroku glanced at Sango reproachfully for being so morbid, yet felt inclined to agree. Though he knew there was at least one young tie keeping her attached to the earth, and that until that tie was safe and sound she would remain here. But, contemplating the leaves that danced about them, carried by the wind, he realized what she had said was true. He couldn't condemn himself to such a fate, knowing that his purpose in life was through. But, though moribund, he wasn't dead yet, and preferred not to dwell on those sorts of things for long periods of time. Gingerly, he moved Sango off of his lap and stood, helping her up tenderly before walking back to the village, stealing one not-so-quick kiss as they reached the edge of the forest, no longer caring who saw them.

Author's Note: This chapter was rather dark, I suppose, though really I don't know. It's dedicated to my friend Anna, whose grandmother recently died. I just want to say for the record that you don't have to agree with my portrayal of death here, just please don't complain about it if you're in a griping mood. But, yes, I suppose you've realized that this is the final chapter of Elementals. My first completed fic... Probably my best, too, since the other ones were mostly written when I first joined , and my writing style wasn't the same as it was now. (Part of the reason I removed them, but yeah...) Anyways, I'm just going to do one story at a time now, with the occasional one-shot thrown in there if I have writer's block or any other lack of inspiration. I'd also like to mention that this chapter is a preview of a story I'll be posting when I'm done with Other. It's called When I'm Gone, and is, obviously, a Miroku/Sango centered fic. If you read this really really closely, you might be able to pick up on a few things that will happen in When I'm Gone... one is more obvious than the other, and if you figure out the hard one, then you'll get cookies for sure, since I'd be really impressed. Thanks for all of the reviews, they've been really great. Ja ne.


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